"The coral waxes, the palm grows, but man departs."--Tahitian proverb.
Ah Cho did not understand French.He sat in the crowded court room, very weary and bored, listening to the unceasing, explosive French that now one official and now another uttered.It was just so much gabble to Ah Cho, and he marvelled at the stupidity of the Frenchmen who took so long to find out the murderer of Chung Ga, and who did not find him at all.The five hundred coolies on the plantation knew that Ah San had done the killing, and here was Ah San not even arrested.It was true that all the coolies had agreed secretly not to testify against one another; but then, it was so simple, the Frenchmen should have been able to discover that Ah San was the man.They were very stupid, these Frenchmen.
Ah Cho had done nothing of which to be afraid.He had had no hand in the killing.It was true he had been present at it, and Schemmer, the overseer on the plantation, had rushed into the barracks immediately afterward and caught him there, along with four or five others; but what of that? Chung Ga had been stabbed only twice.It stood to reason that five or six men could not inflict two stab wounds.At the most, if a man had struck but once, only two men could have done it.
So it was that Ah Cho reasoned, when he, along with his four companions, had lied and blocked and obfuscated in their statements to the court concerning what had taken place.They had heard the sounds of the killing, and, like Schemmer, they had run to the spot.They had got there before Schemmer--that was all.True, Schemmer had testified that, attracted by the sound of quarrelling as he chanced to pass by, he had stood for at least five minutes outside; that then, when he entered, he found the prisoners already inside; and that they had not entered just before, because he had been standing by the one door to the barracks.But what of that? Ah Cho and his four fellow-prisoners had testified that Schemmer was mistaken.In the end they would be let go.They were all confident of that.Five men could not have their heads cut off for two stab wounds.
Besides, no foreign devil had seen the killing.But these Frenchmen were so stupid.In China, as Ah Cho well knew, the magistrate would order all of them to the torture and learn the truth.The truth was very easy to learn under torture.But these Frenchmen did not torture--bigger fools they! Therefore they would never find out who killed Chung Ga.
But Ah Cho did not understand everything.The English Company that owned the plantation had imported into Tahiti, at great expense, the five hundred coolies.The stockholders were clamouring for dividends, and the Company had not yet paid any; wherefore the Company did not want its costly contract labourers to start the practice of killing one another.Also, there were the French, eager and willing to impose upon the Chinagos the virtues and excellences of French law.There was nothing like setting an example once in a while; and, besides, of what use was New Caledonia except to send men to live out their days in misery and pain in payment of the penalty for being frail and human?
Ah Cho did not understand all this.He sat in the court room and waited for the baffled judgment that would set him and his comrades free to go back to the plantation and work out the terms of their contracts.This judgment would soon be rendered.Proceedings were drawing to a close.He could see that.There was no more testifying, no more gabble of tongues.
The French devils were tired, too, and evidently waiting for the judgment.
And as he waited he remembered back in his life to the time when he had signed the contract and set sail in the ship for Tahiti.Times had been hard in his sea-coast village, and when he indentured himself to labour for five years in the South Seas at fifty cents Mexican a day, he had thought himself fortunate.There were men in his village who toiled a whole year for ten dollars Mexican, and there were women who made nets all the year round for five dollars, while in the houses of shopkeepers there were maidservants who received four dollars for a year of service.And here he was to receive fifty cents a day; for one day, only one day, he was to receive that princely sum! What if the work were hard? At the end of the five years he would return home--that was in the contract--and he would never have to work again.He would be a rich man for life, with a house of his own, a wife, and children growing up to venerate him.Yes, and back of the house he would have a small garden, a place of meditation and repose, with goldfish in a tiny lakelet, and wind bells tinkling in the several trees, and there would be a high wall all around so that his meditation and repose should be undisturbed.
Well, he had worked out three of those five years.He was already a wealthy man (in his own country) through his earnings, and only two years more intervened between the cotton plantation on Tahiti and the meditation and repose that awaited him.But just now he was losing money because of the unfortunate accident of being present at the killing of Chung Ga.He had lain three weeks in prison, and for each day of those three weeks he had lost fifty cents.But now judgment would soon be given, and he would go back to work.
